Comfort
by Ficalicious
Summary: Set after Fault – how we deal with a situation says a lot about us. How we deal with it when it involves someone else says a lot about how we feel about that person.


**Comfort**

 **I don't own anything. Please read and review! E/O NC-17**

 **Set after Fault – how we deal with a situation says a lot about us. How we deal with it when it involves someone else says a lot about how we feel about that person.**

He pushed her jacket from her shoulders. There was no gentleness in his touch; no hesitation. His callused fingers roughly grazed against the bare skin of her arms before brushing under the edges of the tank she wore. His lips blazed a trail from her kiss swollen lips, across her jaw and to her neck. He hesitated there, only for a nanosecond, before dragging his lips across the white gauze that was taped there.

A rough hiss – pleasure or pain or both, he wasn't sure – tore itself from her mouth and her fingers dug cruelly into his back. The pain drew a feral growl from him and he found her lips with fevered ardour. His tongue fought for dominance over hers while his hands fought to remove her jacket from where it had tangled around her hands.

He needed to touch her. To feel that she was really there.

He pushed her back against the wall. The bench was right beside them and he knew it would take little effort to lift her lithe form and deposit her there. She'd hate him for it.

He did it anyway.

The new position gave him the control he needed. Spreading her knees roughly with his hips he pushed between them. Despite her protestations, and the frustrated glare she gave him, her hands wove a different story. Rather than push him away, they pulled at the buttons of his shirt. One long finger unravelled his tie and threw it to the side. The coquettish smile she gave him as she casually popped the first two buttons on his shirt nearly undid him. He pushed against her; forcing her to feel his arousal pressed against her heat. He wanted to be in charge. He needed to be in charge. He needed to have some control over this moment when he had lost all control over everything else in the last 24 hours.

One hand braced on either side of her slender hips as his tongue duelled with hers. Her hands were clawing at his neck. He knew there'd be marks there. But nothing worse than the marks he had already left on her. The side of her neck, the one not adorned with the bandage, was peppered with red welts from his lips. He was certain there would be fingerprint shaped bruises on her hips, her thighs, her ass. The idea of marking her as his was primal and made him harder than hell.

His mind was scattered. A single thought managed to make itself known above all others – a lighthouse amidst the storm. He had to have her. He had to assure himself that she was alive.

Her hands unbuckling his belt shook him from the momentary reverie he had fallen into. His body was still working in overdrive, even if his mind had stilled to a standstill. At some point he had torn her shirt – the buttons were now scattered across the benchtop and had he been in his right mind he may have felt bad about it. Instead it only drove him on.

She gave his belt one strong tug and it flew out of the belt loops and across the room in a single motion. It was _the_ single hottest thing he had ever seen and his knees felt weak with it. The grin she gave him let him know she had his number. He wasn't about to be outdone.

Fingers, teeth, tongues, lips. It was a blur as he pulled her ruined shirt from her body and gazed at her lace clad breasts freely for the first time. He'd seen her before, of course. In the squad rooms getting changed. But he'd had to feign nonchalance then, when inside his body was screaming to ravish her. Now he was able to ogle like a teenage boy. His hands went to fondle her, more roughly than he had intended but her moans let him know she was wound just as tightly as he was.

With more dexterity than even he expected, and especially considering this was only the second woman he'd ever done this with, he unclasped the lace prison and slipped it down her arms. Immediately he latched onto one dusky nipple and teased it with his teeth. Her fingers slipped into his hair; her nails dragging along his scalp and pulling him closer. Smirking against her breast he brought his other hand up to entertain its partner. He _knew_ she'd be vocal.

His body ground against her; his hips pressing insistently against hers. He could feel her heat scalding them through their clothing. There was too much clothing. He didn't want there to be any more barriers between them. Her ankles had hooked themselves behind his thighs and he took his moment. With his hands grasping her firm arse he pulled her off the bench and held her tightly against him. He could feel her breasts against his chest, through the fabric of his shirt. Her nipples were hard as rock and he wanted to taste them again. His lips captured hers fiercely and he blindly stumbled through her apartment towards the bedroom.

Her hips were doing vicious little circles against him and he feared this would be all over before it'd even started if she doesn't cut that out. With an animalistic growl he deposited her on the bed with a bounce. Her breath left her in a gasp and her eyes sought his out in the dim light. Her hair had fanned out around her; tousled by his hands. Her chest was rising and falling and she looked wild. And passionate. And goddamn gorgeous as hell.

His body still leading the show, one part in particular, his hands reached for her boots and pulled them from her feet. They fell to the floor with a thud of finality. _This is it,_ he thought. The culmination of years of partnership, of lingering glances, stolen touches, denied feelings. All of it leading to this moment where he had succumbed simply because he needed to prove to himself that she was alive and she is ok.

He crawled up the bed. Her sudden intake of breath didn't escape his notice and he smirked. He knew he was a sexy bastard. And he had reason to be confident, even if his experience was limited. Bracing his hands on either side of her head he held himself above her, dipping to capture her lips. His body hovered just above hers. Enough to feel her heat radiating against him. He could feel her body undulating below his, seeking contact. He wouldn't grant it. He needed to take her in, to savour this moment for just a few seconds longer.

His eyes dragged across her face and landed on the bandage at her neck. Pure, unadulterated rage seethed through him. Gitano. The case that had nearly broken them. He didn't want to think about it. All he wanted in that moment was to assure himself that she was real. She was breathing. She was safe. She was there with him. His eyes trailed over her body; enjoying the site of her breasts moving with each laboured breath she took. Her taut stomach, the dip of her waist as it sank below the band of her pants. Heading north again he caught her watching him watching her. His gaze held hers; trying to convey so much with just a glance.

"I'm here, Elliot," she whispered, her hand coming to rest on his chest.

It was as though the floodgates had been opened. His lips captured hers as his body closed the gap between them. Resting his weight on her momentarily, he allowed himself to feel her writhing against him. Her knees fell against his hips, her hands tightened around his shoulders; pulling him closer. His hands slipped between them, dipping below the hem of her pants and into her heat. The second he felt her wetness a switch flicked and that was it. He was a whirlwind. Her pants were dragged down her legs, the silk of her panties tickling his palms as he threw the clothing across the room. His own shirt joined her clothes and he was back on her, kissing her passionately. His fingers teased her entrance, dancing against her nubbin. Her moans spurred him on and his brain went into a fog as he acted purely on instinct.

He found himself on his back before he knew what had happened and gazed up as she straddled him, grinding herself against the bulge pushing at the front of his pants. He gasped for breath, his hands moving to fondle her breasts as they danced before his face. His lips moved to taste her again. A growl tore itself from his throat when she pulled away. Reaching for her, he growled again when she shook her head, giving him a smirk.

Her hands found the button of his pants and popped it, before sliding the zipper over his straining erection. He moaned, his eyes closing then. He couldn't watch her reach for him or he'd lose it in his pants. Her hand wrapped around his shaft and all the air left his body in that moment. He strained to control himself, to not let it finish then. He felt his pants being slipped over his hips. He raised them slightly to allow her to drag them down his legs. She pulled them off, along with his shoes, before she crawled back over him.

He could feel her eyes on him and it was more than he could bare.

His body sprung to action then, passion overwhelming him. Grasping her arms, he spun them until he was above her. His lips sought hers in a fiery kiss, and his hands were everywhere at once. Their hips collided as their bodies fell into sync.

He needed to be in her. His body wouldn't wait. His mind was a blur.

"Be gentle next time," he managed to gasp out as his hand reached between them, positioning his shaft at her entrance. He felt her nod against his neck and that was as long as he could wait. His hips surged forward, entering her, stretching her. He could feel the resistance in her body and he tried to be slow. He really did try. The muscles in his back flexed as he tried to show some restraint as he entered her. His arms were trembling with it. He felt like he'd slipped into heaven.

She was tight. Unbelievably so. And incredibly wet. It was pure liquid heat and he was drowning in her. He was certain he had hurt her with his abrupt entrance and was trying to give her time to adjust to his girth. He had good reason to be cocky, but he remembered all too clearly the pain his endowment could cause.

It was her moan that was the end of him. Her face, which had been buried in his neck as he entered her, was thrown back in ecstasy; her eyes closed and her mouth open in a silent _o._ Her legs tightened around his waist and her hips undulated against him. He could not control it any longer and his hips met hers in a frantic pace. He was sure they would be covered in bruises but it didn't matter. His need for her was far greater. He set a furious pace and to her credit she matched him thrust for thrust; her fingers digging into his back, her lips bruising his.

He knew she was close. He desperately hoped she was because he wasn't going to last. Her heat was engulfing him and he was losing control. Dipping a hand between them he flicked her nubbin; once, twice, three times. He felt her walls fluttering around him, milking him. His hips jerked in response. Tweaking her clit, a final time he felt her fall. Her mouth opened in a silent scream and her body shuddered against him. Her freefall triggered his own and he buried his face in her neck as he lost himself in her. The force of his release burned through him, and he couldn't feel anything but a tingling sensation starting in his toes and working northwards. He shook with it, and felt her arms holding him to her as he regained himself.

Finally, he was able to pull back and find her eyes. This wasn't how he'd ever intended their first time to be. Over so quickly. So rough. So frantic. And yet it was exactly what they had needed. Consequences be damned. He had no idea what the sun would bring with it, and he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about all the lines they had crossed or how this could affect their work. He didn't want to think about people who would be hurt, or damage done. He just wanted to stay in this moment; this reassurance that despite the fact he had fucked up, had let her down, she was there and she was safe in his arms.

Everything else would have to sort itself out. His only hope was that she wouldn't hate him in the morning.

Pulling out of her with a groan, the feel of both their releases on his skin, he fell beside her and pulled her against him.

"Liv," he said with a sigh, not wanting to have to deal with it all just yet. Her hand on his lips stopped him and his eyes sought her out in the dark.

She didn't speak. She barely moved. But she looked into his eyes and he saw no hatred there, no regret. Then she pulled her fingers from his lips and rested her head on his chest. He allowed himself, then, to settle into sleep, with his partner, his world, taking as much comfort from him as he was taking from her.


End file.
